The Hardy Boys
by Grace Willow
Summary: An updated and edgy rendition of the Hardy brothers: Frank and Joe show up for a case at midnight only to find themselves in the middle of mobster mayhem. Will they survive? Or will the brothers end up taking a boardwalk dive to their very deaths?
1. Chapter 1

Frank Hardy drove his black van into Bayport's boat harbor parking lot and cut the engine as far away from the dock as possible; slightly behind a clump of unidentifiable shrubs bordering the woods behind it. He turned his head to his younger brother, Joe, who was asleep in the passenger's side. Frank nudged him and his eyes fluttered open. "We're here," Frank said.

Joe sat up, rubbed his eyes, and glanced at his watch. "Quarter till two," he read aloud. Then, for the first time since the trip had started, he looked over at his eldest brother with panic. "They should be here by now," Joe said, his voice tight and slightly hoarse.

"They'll be here." Frank was always the logical, more strategic brother out of them both. With his lean, muscular shape and dark chestnut eyes he seemed to immediately register as the "intellectual" type.

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, Joe saw a limo pull into the lot followed by a completely restored '60's Challenger painted a dark, cherry red, with a guitar's bridge artfully decorating the doors on either side of the vehicle.

Joe tapped his brother's shoulder. "Frank look," he said, pointing.

Frank turned his attention to the vehicles just in time to see two men in dark trench coats exit the limo and head out of sight towards the dock. Meanwhile, a disheveled young man in his early twenties dressed in office work clothes stepped out of the other with a briefcase clutched tightly to his chest. He glanced nervously around before bounding after the other men.

Frank pulled on Joe's shirt. "C'mon. Wherever they're going, we are too." He and Joe both silently got out of the van and slinked to the edge of the shrubbery. Once there, Frank gave a look around before nodding to Joe that the coast was clear. They both dashed across the pavement to the dock. Joe argued that he wanted to keep going to the end of it, but Frank held a finger to his lips and pointed to a vacant fishing boat tied off close to the end of the dock. Reluctantly, Joe nodded in agreement and scurried up the ladder after his brother.

Once Joe reached the deck, he hoisted himself up and realized that he was standing in a part of the boat called the stern, which was the back portion of the vessel. He moved his gaze around the boat's floor and saw that it was severely damaged, and was probably the reason why it was sitting unused and forgotten in the harbor. Nearly every weekend, Joe, Frank, and their father Fenton Hardy go fishing at this dock and the ship he was standing in hadn't moved since he could remember.

Fishing equipment was lying everywhere throughout the vessel and dangerously large holes were sporadically blown away from its floor. Joe could feel his weight cause stress on the rotting boards jutting up from the wooden deck on which he was standing. He gazed ahead and saw that Frank was carefully making his way to the bow trying not to make any sound with each step he took. Joe decided that he would memorize the placement of his brother's footing and mimic those exact steps to join him at the bow.

Once Frank was on the other side, Joe began to carefully cross over to him. One foot after the other, he slowly walked across the floor, endeavoring his ears to listen for creaks the weak boards make under his weight. With a triumphant sigh, he took his last step and crouched next to his brother.

Once seeing him, Frank gave Joe a crooked smile. "What took you so long? Getting sidetracked again, little brother?" he teased.

Joe frowned. "No. I was just trying not to fall through the floor on the way over here. I'm sure Vanessa wouldn't like it very much if my handsome features got scraped up."

Frank shrugged inattentively and waved Joe off. "Shush! Here they come." He pointed to three figures heading toward the end of the dock below. One of the two men grabbed the guy they saw climb out of the custom painted car earlier by the back of the neck and shoved him forward so that he was between the two.

The man who was in charge of the situation abruptly stopped and turned to face his henchman. "Jockey," he commanded.

As fast as lightning, the burly man grabbed the office worker in front of him with a death grip. One hand ripped the briefcase he was holding out of his grasp and tossed it to his boss, while the other hand grabbed the guy's wrists and held them behind his back.

He let out an unguarded cry of pain.

The henchmen then grabbed a fistful of the office worker's hair and yanked it back. At that moment Frank saw a flash of pain sear his face, and realized that the overcome man was no more than his own age!

Once he was sufficiently held down and incapable of moving, the henchman shoved the office worker down to his knees as more of a disadvantage.

The man who was thrown his briefcase stood towering over the office worker with a cynical smile plastered on his face.

"Asshole," the boy hissed.

The man granted him a provoking chuckle as he slowly circled the boy that was brought to his knees. Once facing him again, the man gazed down at him sardonically.

"Well, whadda we have here. Jeffery Ross." The man made a few disapproving clucks with his tongue, and Joe watched as the corners of his mouth began to slightly turn upwards. "You know how long I've been waiting for my money?"

The boy didn't even reply.

"Too long, that's what, Boss."

"Shut up!" He hissed at his henchman, and then gained composure with another evil smile. "Indeed; too long, Mr. Ross. Do you know what I like to do to certain clients when I have to wait for my money?"

The office worker stared at him as if he were the lowliest creature on the face of the earth. "I dunno. Why don't you show me?" he exhorted.

"What did you just say to me, punk?" the boss threatened. Frank knew he felt that he was beginning to lose hold of the situation.

"You heard me."

The boss was suddenly beyond angry, he was furious. His entire face turned red, and it looked as if lava were about to pour out of his ears at any second like a volcano. He raised his hand as if he was about to hit the boy, and Joe and Frank tensed, but instead the man snapped his fingers together.

It seemed in less than a second that Jockey lashed out from his holding position on the boy and swiftly brought his elbow down on his neck. The office worker cried out in pain and fell to the floor. When he tried to get up, the henchman effortlessly picked him up by his shirt collar and raised him to eye level, intimidating his victim, and clearly ready to instill more pain.

Frank and Joe didn't wait another second; they both scrambled to their feet, ready to quickly conduct a strategy before it became too late.

Frank's mind was whirling. His eyes flicked from one corner of the ship to the next, looking for any item that they could use as a weapon. He saw a wrench lying next to a fisherman's rusty bait and tackle box and quickly rushed over to pick it up.

He glanced over at his brother who was tearing up a wooden plank that warped away from the deck and was hanging on by rusted nails, the only thing fastening it to the ship.

Once armed, they both quickly organized a plan before descending down the ladder at which they had just minutes ago climbed up.

Joe was halfway down when Frank grabbed him the hood of his varsity letter jacket. He looked up quizzically at his brother who motioned him to come back up. Joe didn't understand why Frank was telling him to backtrack, but he knew from previous experiences to trust him when it came to brilliant, strategic ideas that seemed to just pop into his head at a whim. Although most of the time Joe thought that it would be better to just jump into a circumstance instead of over-thinking it.

Once he climbed up, Frank pulled him closer so he could whisper in his ear, "See that anchor?" He pointed towards the bow of the vessel they were currently standing on.

Joe nodded.

"The odds aren't very great with our going down there into the midst of a fight with poor weapons alone," Frank predicted. "So I think that we should drop the anchor right in front of the henchman when he makes his move to finish the guy off."

Joe nodded, and made a quick glance towards the three figures standing on the dock below him. He tentatively walked over to the edge and ducked low so he couldn't be seen. When Joe looked out at the harbor, he became instantly grim. The henchman was taking his time to efficiently bind the office worker's hands and ankles together with a thick rope until he was, for a better word, hog-tied. Joe then knew the purpose for their meeting at a deserted boat harbor during midnight. They never wanted to negotiate with the young man into getting what they desired, all they wanted was to just simply overcome the office worker with brute force, then drown him in the ocean.

His body would never be found.

Joe slunk over to his brother until he was once again standing in the center of the boat, out of sight. "They're going to drown him," he said gravely.

Frank didn't look the least bit surprised. "Of course they are. That's why we're going to stop it. Now go and stand next to the crank, and when I give you the signal, you're going to drop the anchor, letting it destroy the deck, and taking Jockey with it."

Joe swallowed. Leave it to Frank to come up with a completely unsafe plan that could involve people getting killed. Lucky for him, though, Joe liked danger. "Cool."

"And I," Frank continued, "will wait by the ladder. Then, when the man in charge decides to make a run for it without his bodyguard, I'll go for him."

Joe nodded. "I'll meet you down there, then."

Frank walked off to his post.

Meanwhile, Joe kept his eye on the henchman and his boss as they made their way back to the dock from previously exchanging a few words at the limo. With each step the henchman took, Joe began to feel more and more anxious. Finally, with what felt like a millennium, Jockey stepped slightly into the target, and without delay Joe immediately went into action reeling the crank in a fast, pivotal motion.

It was cold out, due to it being the second week January, and on top of that, he couldn't feel his hands. With every movement created friction, and Joe began to feel an aggravating, sharp pain shoot up his forearm. He cringed, but managed to tighten his grip, which made his biceps scream with pain.

To his relief, Joe eventually heard the satisfactory sound of wood splintering as the anchor smashed through the deck, followed by a surprised cry from Jockey, and then a thunderous splash into the sea.

Guess I caught him off guard, Joe mused.

He glanced over to his right and down at Frank, who had already bounded down the ladder for a surprise attack. Joe smiled, and picked up his board, ready to lend a hand.


	2. Chapter 2

Frank ran full force into the man, knocking the wind out of him. He heard a surprised _oof_ as his body made impact. The boss fell to the floor as he and Frank tumbled around on the ground grappling for the upper hand.

The man grabbed for Frank's wrench, but when he pulled away, he grabbed his wrist instead and slammed it onto the hard wood of the boardwalk, forcing Frank to release his grip. Unfortunately, the wrench slid away from his reach, and over the side of the dock.

After that, Frank eventually got in a good blow to the man's stomach.

The man lay parlayed on the ground just long enough for Frank to rise to his feet, taking a stance that allowed him enough room for accurate and deadly karate moves. He motioned the man struggling at his feet to stand, signaling that he was ready to fight fairly as men.

Just as soon, Joe came over raising his board high, ready to hit the man over the head seeing that he was now at a disadvantage.

The boss attempted to lift himself from the ground, but his arms were too weak to support his body, therefore barely lifting himself from the dock on which he was splayed. All he could muster was to flip his body over, staring unnervingly right into Frank's eyes.

Seeing his face, Frank yelled for his brother. "Wait, Joe. Don't knock him out."

Jae skidded to a stop. "What?" He looked at the pathetic man groveling at their feet. "C'mon, Frank. You can't be serious. You heard what he was about to do to that guy!"

Frank pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling like it might start to bleed from where the man had slugged him. "I know. But just stop for a second and think. Where have you seen him before?" Frank asked.

Joe took a good look. The man was dressed in impeccably fine attire. From the top of his slicked back, Italian hair to the tip of his Berluti loafers he practically radiated power. Just looking at him now Joe knew that this man was indeed someone who could use you in any way he desired to get whatever he desired, whether it be money, or pride. Yes, Joe did know him, and so did Frank.

He was a man that used to visit their home on Thanksgiving to share their mother's wonderful turkey dinner that she always tried so hard to impress with. Every year when she heard that their father would be inviting a fellow coworker as a guest, Laura, their mother, would go all out.

Now looking at him bloody and battered, Joe knew. It finally all made sense. Bringing his mind back to the present, he cleared his throat. "Frank? Is he…?"

"Yes," Frank answered his brother rather gravely, then his voice broke as he added, "It's him."

They both stood in silence looking down at the man they had once known in what seemed like decades ago. The same man who let them take turns learning how to drive in his old car, the same man who sat them both on his knee when they were barely five and told them stories about magnificent adventures involving gold and treasure.

Just then they heard Jockey clawing furiously at the boardwalk in attempt to pull his massive body up. When he surfaced he was sputtering salt water, and didn't look the least bit happy.

"Uh, Frank?" Joe said, anxiously tugging on his brother's jacket.

Frank blinked as if he was coming out of a daze. "What?" he asked.

Joe silently pointed to Jockey who was now standing on the dock, holding the wrench in his beefy hand, grinning cynically at them both.

Using this opportune moment being that the boys were distracted, the boss scurried to his feet and limped as fast as possible to the protection of his henchmen. When he reached him, he smirked back at the Hardys in the same way he always had when he scored a sneaky touchdown during their backyard football games.

"Jockey," the man said. "Pick him up." He pointed towards the young man starting dumbfounded as the horrific scene unwound before him.

Jockey did as he was told, but paused before throwing the boy overboard. "Wait. Sir, are you sure that you don't want me to just snap his neck? It would be easier and much more efficient that way," he said coldly.

The man shook his head and flipped a ringed hand indifferently concerning the situation. "I really could care less. But seeing as the situation in this particular moment is different from our previous jobs, I suggest you allow him to endure as much pain as possible. I want his death to be slow. Make him as miserable as he made me. I want him to drown."

And with that, Jocky plopped the very frightened boy into the frigid waters, allowing him to sink like a rock below the surface.

"No!" Frank yelled, already heading towards the side of the dock, but Jockey was there to stop him with a firm shove backwards.

"Tisk, tisk, tisk," the man hissed. "Haven't you boys learned? Never get in the way of gunfire. It's a surefire way to get killed."

"Who said anything about gunfire?" Joe asked.

The simply man smiled and pulled out an antique revolver, while his henchman reached behind his back for an Italian machine gun.

The boss chuckled at their stunned faces. "Surely your father has taught you boys by now that in the family trade, there is no trust."

"The hell there is," Joe spoke. Then, taking a leap of faith, he jumped over the edge of the boardwalk, contorting his body into a graceful dive as he plunged beneath the surface of the watery abyss.

Bullet shots fired behind him, disappearing into the black water, and Frank prayed that they hadn't hit their intended target. He fought the urge to race to his brother's rescue.

The man smiled as if he pitied him. "Flesh is to ashes just as words are to paper. The only difference is that once one is burned, it loses its secrets."

Frank looked genuinely puzzled. "I don't understand."

The man laughed. "Of course you don't, my boy. Because the only thing that will allow you to make sense of it is what lies in your very own blood."

It was cold, that much was true. But despite the adrenaline coursing through Frank's veins keeping him warm, he felt an involuntary shiver crawl up his spine. "I still don't fully understand what you mean."

The man laughed cynically, and placed a hand on Jockey's shoulder to stop him from going in after Joe. "That won't be necessary. You see, they'll both be dead shortly what with the temperature and depth," he said nodding towards the ocean. A thought suddenly dawned on him, "Although, this is certainly an opportune moment for Joseph to prove himself. If he survives, that is."

He eyed Frank. Behind the action, a boat sounded somewhere hidden amid the fog, signaling its arrival.

The man smiled. "It's been nice seeing you, Franklin. Give your best to your mother for me. Oh, and before I forget, make sure to think about what I said. Blood is stronger than words, promises, even love. Keep that in mind. And when you're ready, you'll know where to find me."

He stepped onto the deck of the ship that appeared out of the gloom, its bright barge lights slicing through the smog. He did it casually, as if there was nothing to be worried about, like he was stepping onto a cruise ship rather than a boat that would safely escort him away from his most recent murder. When he was securely aboard, the boss waved to Frank cheerfully.

"You know, I've been waiting for a day when you boys would finally find out who your father really was. As it so fittingly is corresponding to who I am."

Frank watched without a word as the boat took the man and his empire along with him, back to wherever world it was that he is a part of.

Feeling like he was in a dream, or maybe a nightmare, Frank rushed over to where his brother last disappeared. He debated briefly with his mind whether or not he should go in after him, then saw out of the corner of his eye a ball cap floating atop the lapping water, a red bloom directly underneath of it. Frank felt a sob catch in his throat, and choked it back. "Joe…" he whispered, and reached out for the bloodied hat.

At that moment, for the first time in Frank's life, he didn't know what he should do or think. He didn't know what he would tell their family and friends, and most importantly, he didn't know what he would do without Joe, his only brother.

His fingertips skimmed the brim of the hat, but to no avail was he able to stretch far enough to scoop it up. He watched as it floated for a moment, then suddenly began to sink into the blackness below, joining Joe in his watery grave.

Frank knelt and put his head in his hands. He wouldn't weep, he knew. His father brought him up too strong for that. No, he would just sit and think. Think about how to catch the man he had once known who left on the barge to nowhere. Because when he did, Frank was certain he would kill him. Make him pay for the enormous debt he had just cost his family.

"Whoa. Dude, that was some wicked seaweed down there. I swear, it looked just like the monster tentacles that were in that movie, Return of the Octopus."

Frank snapped his head up to see Joe standing on the dock perfectly unharmed. Well, except for the gushing cut he had running down the length of his arm. He was grinning a crooked, goofy grin gazing down at his brother who, on the contrary, looked like he had just seen a ghost.

"What's wrong Frank? You look ill. It's probably the nighttime chill. I told you to wear a better jacket. Leather is always the way to go," he said, proudly patting his own. "It never fails to block out the wind."

Frank smiled at him so large he thought it would crack his face if it got any wider. "Joe!" he exclaimed and raced to hug his brother.

"_Oof_," Joe sounded as Frank barreled into him. "Hey! Watch it. I'm still bleeding all over the place. What's gotten into you anyway?"

Frank squeezed him tightly as if he would never let go. "Nothing," he said, relieved that Joe was solid, and then laughed gratefully. "I've just had one wild night, that's all. And I'm sure as heck glad you're okay."

Joe nodded, and then peeled Frank away from him. "I see now. You thought I was a goner. Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, bro. Sorry to disappoint." He turned away then, a teasing grin spreading across his face. "Hey, did I tell you that the rescue mission was a success? Yeah, I saved the dude. That's right, all me. Eat your heart out."

Frank raised a brow. "You did? Where is he then?"

"I lugged him over to the van and stuffed him in the back. I've got the heater blasting right now. He's fine."

Frank exhaled an exhausted breath. "Good." He looked down at his brother's arm, and nervously at the clump of shrubbery that their van was concealed behind. Without another word, he began to walk back. He would need to get Joe some stiches after this. "Um, Joe? Question for you: how'd you get him all the way over here without being spotted?"

Joe chuckled. "Just a couple pieces of hollow straw grass and drift wood. Why do you ask?"

Frank laughed. "You watch too much television."

"Oh yeah? Well you should be glad that I at least watch the Discovery channel. Otherwise, God knows how we would have survived that drought in South America."

Frank nodded, remembering their hike to the top of the Andes Mountains. "Yeah, I guess you are useful after all," he kidded and reached over to ruffle his younger brother's hair.

Once back in the van, Frank drove out of the harbor. Just before the gate, there was a speed bump that wasn't there before. Joe yelled for Frank to watch out and slow down, but it was too late. The van lurched and jumped over the bump, consequentially making the van rock like a boat. Right after, the boys heard a massive explosion behind them. Frank stomped on the brakes. The brothers both spun around to see a rising inferno spread over the entire dock, engulfing it in flames.

Tomorrow, Frank thought, there would be nothing left of it. Not a trace; almost as of no one had even been there at all.

Frank blinked. "Joe, one more question for you: Are you seeing this too or is it just my imagination?"

Mouth gaping, Joe nodded in confirmation to his brother's question.

Frank turned around and took the van out of first. Not bothering to look back, he drove on. "That's what I thought."


	3. Chapter 3

Sitting at the hospital looking at Joe made Frank almost feel sorry for him. Almost.

His brother had ten stiches running from his elbow down to his wrist. He was looking at Frank with mock sad eyes, and Frank couldn't help but laugh. "This is what you get for being reckless," he said, meaning every word. Joe was a bit on the impulsive side, and Frank thought it was about time he was taught a lesson before something really bad actually does happen to him.

The young man they had saved earlier that night lay awake in their van, grateful for the warmth and hot cocoa Frank had brought out to him earlier from the cafeteria.

"So," Frank said, "have any idea why the boardwalk blew up tonight?"

"Yep," Joe answered. He didn't look at Frank. He was too busy admiring a young nurse a few yards away. Nevertheless, he was still focused on their conversation. "I was in the water, remember? So I got a good look at the underneath of the dock."

"Oh?" Frank responded.

"Yeah. There were explosives, alright. It was definitely no accident."

Frank rubbed his chin. "Then that means the new speed bump is a fake." He thought some more. "And that also means it was a pressure switch set to go off once we were safely out of the parking lot."

"Yep," Joe answered again, then yawned. "I am totally zonked. You know, I could fall asleep any minute like I was in a coma if it wasn't for my arm." He looked down at it sullenly.

Frank chuckled. "Even though you're in a hospital gown sitting on a hospital bed at a hospital?" he teased.

Joe glared at him. "Shut up, Frank. You know I hate these places."

Just then, the young nurse came into their little cubicle carting a tray behind her. What lay on it were needles. Big needles.

Joe swallowed audibly. "Um, could you turn around and leave behind the curtain you just came though? Please? For me?" He panicked even more when she picked up the syringe off the sterilized tray.

"No, Mr. Hardy, this is your pain killer and tetanus shot. You cannot leave here without it, or you'll be in great pain."

Joe grimaced. "I'll take my chances."

Frank gave him a hard, serious look. "Joe, don't be such a wimp. Take it like man."

Joe could tell he was enjoying every minute of his agony. He looked at the beautiful nurse, and she smiled at him kindly.

"It won't hurt a bit, I promise."

Joe sighed. "Fine...Melissa," he said, reading from her name plate. He held out his injured arm, and looked away. "Make it quick."

She winked at Frank, and grabbed from some antiseptic on her try. Melissa sterilized Joe's arm, then held her finger over a vein where she would be administering the vaccine. "You ready?" she asked him.

"Just do it."

She quickly slid the needle under his skin and squeezed the fluid out of the cylinder. Joe flinched, but in less than three seconds it was over.

"There, "Melissa said. "Now for the second one."

Joe sighed unhappily, and then held out his other arm for her to take. "Here you go. Have at it."

She laughed shyly. "I'm sorry Mr. Hardy, but that's not where this one goes." She flicked the syringe.

He looked at her dubiously. "And where might that one go, then?" Joe noticed that this shot's needle was far larger than the previous. It made his insides squirm just looking at it.

She smiled politely, and then pointed to his butt.

"Oh." Joe blushed, and Frank burst out laughing.

Mellissa motioned for him to turn over and he did. Laying there on his stomach like that suddenly made Joe feel very uncomfortable.

This, he thought, is going to be a very long night.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, the Hardy's were gathered around the family dining room table, eating breakfast. The previous night when they had pulled up to their house, Fenton Hardy was waiting in the driveway to greet them.

When Frank got out, he went over to the passenger's side door to help a half-way unconscious Joe out of the van. He slug Joe's arm over his shoulder before heading over to face their father together. Once seeing Joe's injury, Fenton suddenly grew less stern towards the fact that they had snuck out at night to solve a case he had strictly forbade them from doing, and instead was more concerned over the fact that Joe had multiple stitches running down the length of him arm—not to mention that both of his sons were bruised and bloodied from head to toe.

"Holy halibut!" Fenton exclaimed, trying to swallow the shock of the fact that they were unequivocally injured. Frank limped, attempting to conceal it, meanwhile trying to support Joe's weight at the same time. "What in God's name happened to you boys?" It came as more of a demand than a question.

"I slurped seaweed and killed an octopus," Joe nonsensically answered, grinning.

His father raised an eyebrow. "I'm guessing that it was a good stakeout, then?"

Frank shook his head. "Ignore him; he's on a heavy dose of pain killer. What he meant to say was that we saw—and fought—Uncle Felix just a little bit ago, and saved someone in the process. I haven't had the chance to interrogate him yet of his involvement. He's asleep in the back of the van."

"And you're saying that this boy could possibly be a criminal and you brought him to our home?" His father's voice was rising now. "What were you thinking? He could be a murder!"

Unthinking, Joe snorted. "Yeah, he's a stone cold criminal alright. That explains why he was sucking his purple thumb on the way over here in a thong."

Fenton said nothing, just stared at his son in downright misperception.

Frank elaborated. "Um, I think he means…actually, to be honest, I have no idea what he means. But that's nothing new."

Joe looked at Frank, attempting to give him an indication that he was aggravated, but it just came off as levity, which he had more of than usual. "It doesn't matter. He's just some random dude," he said shifting his weight, while Frank adjusted his grip.

Surprisingly, that was the first somewhat sensible thing he's said so far. "Yes, he is random," Frank agreed, "—but only because he's unfamiliar. I'm sure his part in whatever was going on down by the pier was significant."

Joe made no comment, just started to dose off, and then jerked his head upwards to stay awake. Apparently the effects of the pain killer were moving Joe's system on to its second stage of patient recovery: induced sleep.

Fenton shook his head tiredly, looked at his watch, and ran a hand over his face. "Alright boys, looks like you've gotten me involved into another case." He paused for a moment. "Are you sure that you saw your uncle?" He stared past his sons then, waiting for the answer he'd been dreading to hear.

Frank nodded in absolute certainty. "I'm positive." He paused, and then asked with curiosity, "Why?"

Without taking his eyes off a distant tree in their neighbor's yard, Fenton spoke as if he was the only one in the Hardy's driveway that cold, fall night. Frank could still feel the impact of his father's words as they hit the chilly air: "Because Felix killed your Aunt Gertrude. He's been missing ever since."

Sitting in the kitchen that morning, watching his father read the New York Times paper, Frank could tell that since the last six hours of sleep that they had all managed to get, he looked older and much more tired than he had the night before. Frank just hoped that their mother wouldn't notice the sudden change in the way he held his coffee and scanned his surroundings. It was a sure sign that he was on a case—actions that they had all come to recognize. He appeared weary, Frank discerned, but knew that underneath his wheels were turning, sorting information and concocting a plan, waiting until the opportune moment when it was time for action.

"Hey Dad?" Joe asked. "Could you pass the syrup?"

Without looking up from the news column, Fenton grabbed for what he thought was the syrup and handed it to Joe. "Here you go, son."

Despite the fact that it was chocolate syrup instead of maple, Joe just shrugged and started drowning his pancakes in it.

Frank rolled his eyes just as Laura came over to take it from him. "Joseph Hardy!" she scolded. "You know better than to ruin your breakfast with sugar. It's supposed to be nutritious!" For added emphasis, she looked to her husband for support. "Tell your son that chocolate isn't good for him in the morning, Fenton," she sniffed.

Barely glancing up from his column, he said, "Sure, sure. Anything you say, honey."

"There," she said triumphantly beaming down at Joe.

"Mom! C'mon. That's not fair!" he whined.

"Yes it is," she countered. "If you want to make football tryouts this year you'll have to beef up or buck down." Laura flipped an egg and added paprika as it sizzled in the pan.

Joe scowled. "I still don't see why I can't just have an exception once," he said, still pouting.

Now it was his mother's turn to roll her eyes. "Please. Grow up, Joseph. I'm sure you wouldn't want Vanessa to catch word of how you're acting right now. Not to mention the pink undies."

He gasped. "You wouldn't. That's seriously playing dirty, Mom. I don't have any dirt on you!"

She gave him a hard look over his shoulder. "I would hope not. Anyway, your father already knows all there is about me, and that's why I love him. Dirt and all." She came over to give him a kiss on the cheek as he put away his paper to return it, then picked up a fork to eat.

"Ew," Joe gagged.

Frank just smiled. "I don't think there's any dirt on you at all, Mom."

Joe glared at him over the table. "Kissass," he mouthed thinking no one saw, but his father did, and promptly popped him on the head with his rolled up newspaper.

"Ow!"

"Language," he warned.

Laura smirked. "And that is why you're the favorite, Franklin, dear."

He blinked. "Since when?"

"Since you're currently the good one."

"Oh," he responded, but didn't really understand.

"You choose favorites?" Joe demanded to know.

"Yes. When it suits me."

Joe gaped. "Was I the favorite when I cleaned my room and washed my clothes without you having to ask twice?"

"No, because I told you to do that. Although it was nice that you listened." Joe just stared in shocked silence. It was so quiet that Laura had to turn around to make sure that he was still there. "I'm kidding!" she said. "You're both my favorites."

Fenton chuckled. "What about me?"

Laura smiled. Amorously she said, "You're my special favorite."

He smiled back, and the Hardy's both gagged jokingly.

"I'm excusing myself," Joe said, abruptly getting up from the table. Shortly after, he was followed by Frank. Before he could leave the chair, though, Fenton grabbed his hand, and put an envelope in it. "Here's a letter I need you to deliver to your school's dean," he said. "Now hurry up. Don't be late for class!"

With that, Frank kissed his mother's cheek and took off down the steps to join his brother in their van. Although the request their father had made was quite ordinary, he knew what he had really meant by not being late for class, and it didn't have anything to do with college classes.

"Shades on?" Joe asked, while slipping on his black leather jacket and checking his hair in the rearview mirror.

Frank smiled. "Shades on," he said, and slipped his pair on to conceal his eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

Frank drove into town and abruptly made a left turn into a city parking garage. A police officer waved them through and the van came to a halt in a parking spot reserved for HARDY. Frank popped open his door and Joe did the same, shrugging out his leather jacket while Frank pressed the door lock in his pocket. The brothers made their way to the elevator and rode to the top of the glass-paneled legal building.

When the doors opened, Frank took a deep breath and his hand tightened on the manila envelope. Joe exited first and swaggered his way to the front desk where Rita was sitting, drinking her morning vanilla bean coffee and talking to her incessant ex-boyfriend on the office phone—a leisure activity she was repeatedly reminded to discontinue.

Joe rested his arm on the counter and she held the phone away from her ear. "Hold on Joey…yes? May I help you?"

Joe flashed his winning smile. "Good morning my delicious margarita." He inhaled the air. "Why, I could get drunk off of the perfume you're wearing. Is that lavender?"

The woman scowled at Joe, but blushed despite herself. "That is none of your business, Joe Hardy." Joey said a rude comment over the phone. Joe smirked. "No! He was just complimenting me on my new perfume you bought me."

Joe's smile faltered, and now it was Frank's turn to smile. He knew his little brother loved the cat and mouse game even though he already had a steady girlfriend, Vanessa. Good to know that last night's events didn't mess with his mojo.

"We'd like to speak with Mr. Grey, please," Frank requested. "It may be urgent."

Rita nodded then buzzed him in. "He'll see you now. Go ahead in."

Frank and Joe moved past the receptionist's desk into the Grey Man's office. It was highly modern, plain, and expensive. Joe settled into an arm chair to the left of the boss's head seat, and Frank on the right.

Everything in the room was grey, except for the table, which was a mix of glass and metal and the foliage artfully arranged in vases on various tables.

Just then the door burst open and in walked the Grey Man, head of security and private investigator. When he saw the boys he tiled his head in a welcoming nod, then sat at the head of the table. "What do you have for me?" he asked.

Frank stood and handed the Grey Man the folder. "My father told me to give this to you, sir."

The Gray Man nodded. "Have you opened it?"

Frank shook his head. "No. It has our code on the back in invisible ink."

The Grey Man motioned Frank to sit and he clapped his hands together once. The lights went off, and he clicked on a desk lamp that emitted a purple beam of light. He held the folder underneath it and sure enough, there was the insignia: two eagles, their heads looped around one another, their talons clutching a thorny wreath.

The Grey Man nodded. "Good man. Whatever this is, your father went to a lot of trouble to find it. Obviously he hadn't wanted it to get into the wrong hands." Carefully he opened the folder and slid its contents. There were photos of multiple people as well as papers of rental slips, receipts, intercepted notes, and other articles of evidence.

One photo caught Joe's eye. "Hey! That's Uncle Felix." The photo depicted a figure dressed impeccably on a yacht. If you looked close enough, you could see the bulge under his suit jacket of a revolver.

Frank shook his head. "What ever happened to him? This is just all so wrong."

"I understand your emotional attachment to Felix Hardy, but you must understand he is a criminal in thirteen different countries including the U.S.A."

Joe swallowed. "Thirteen?" he repeated, hoping that saying the number would make it more believable. It didn't.

"Yes," the Grey Man answered. "All starting when he killed your aunt."

Frank clenched his fist. How could he ever turn against his own family? Why had he? Who was the boy they saved last night? He needed answers, and he wasn't getting them.

Frank cleared his throat. "Sir, are you holding the suspect we caught last night in custody?"

The Grey Man nodded. "Yes. He is in bunker 202 in the basement." He then looked up at them just as the boys exchanged hopeful glances. "Don't bother to get your hopes up. He won't speak. We've already tried. He keeps mumbling some kind of number over and over again. We have it on file, but so far it hasn't matched up to anything we have on record. No evidence pertains."

He then clapped the lights back on and straightened the papers to fit them back into their folder. He stood. "Thank you boys, I believe this will be enough evidence to get us on the right track. I will not need your assistance any further. We'll take it from here."

Joe stood as well. He was glad he removed his glasses to look the Grey Man in the eye. "With all due respect, sir, this case involves our family. We have a right to help whenever it deems necessary."

The Grey Man sighed. "Joseph, I know you feel emotionally involved in this, but that is the worst kind of determent you could have when working on a case. It messes with your head and judgment. I can't have you boys being under experienced helping on this."

Frank's eyebrows rose. "Under experienced? Sir, we've been on tons of cases all of which—"

The Grey Man him off to finish the sentence. "All of which you have successfully completed. I know. But this is different and there is no room for negotiation. Understood?"

Frank and Joe were fuming, but silently so. They nodded, not wanting to cause a dispute with higher authority.

"Good." He picked up his briefcase. "Now before you go, I have a job for both of you. Even though you can't work on this case with full involvement, I have an opportunity that you might be interested in. It will still help us nab Felix and find out what he's up to."

Frank stands. "Anything," he says willingly, ready to bring his uncle to justice.

He then walked over to the buzzer and said, "Send her in."

Just then a girl with strawberry blonde hair wearing a sweater with a cinched belt, leggings and flats walked into the room and smiled all too familiarly.

Frank's eye's widened and Joe's mouth dropped in surprise. Then realizing their stares, the boys quickly composed themselves professionally.

"This is—" the Grey Man began.

"Nancy!" Joe exclaimed and ran over to lift her into a big bear hug.

So much for composure, Frank thought.

The Grey Man looked taken aback. "You all know each other?"

Frank nodded, while looking at Nancy he said, "Yes. We've crossed paths a few times."

The Grey Man smiled. "Well I believe you all will be my new dream team, then." He decided to finish Nancy's introduction even though they already knew one another. "She is a young sleuth much like yourselves. In case you haven't already guessed, I have hired Nancy to be your third eye, so to speak. Whenever there is mischief about she will be there to report back to me."

Joe raised an eyebrow at Nancy. "So, you're here to rat us out to the coppers when we do something wrong?"

Nancy nodded. "More or less. Mainly I'm here to help you both. When I received Mr. Grey's phone call inviting me onto the case, I couldn't decline. You know me, "she blushed. "Plus, when I found out you two were going to be on it, I definitely couldn't refuse."

The Grey Man checked his watch. "I have an appointment, but I will leave you to it, yes Nancy?"

She nodded and saluted. "Yes, sir."

He chuckled and patted her on the shoulder. "Don't be too hard on them." Then he left out the door.

Nancy smiled. "So…"

Frank crossed his arms. "So…"

Joe grinned. "Well this should be fun!" He hooked an arm over each of their shoulders. "The team back together again."

Frank let out an internal sigh. "Yes. It's great." His voice lacked enthusiasm.

Nancy noticed. "Oh, come on, Frank. Mad that a girl is in charge of your assignment?"

"No. Not at all. It's just—" he scratched the back of his neck, "—weird to be seeing you again, Nance."

She grinned and swung her bag over her shoulder. Joe opened the door for her.

She looked back to Frank. "Don't worry. I'm not going to be a stooge."

He smiled. "Oh, really?"

"Really."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Yeah," Jae added. "You'll have to prove yourself to us."

Once they all filed into the elevator, Nancy pressed the lowest level button.

"What are you doing?" Frank asked her. "That's an unauthorized area."

She shrugged. "I'm proving myself."


	6. Chapter 6

Frank gently grabbed Nancy's wrist and pulled her away from the elevator buttons. He pushed the level of that their van was parked on and waited.

Nancy scowled at him. "What's the big idea?"

Avoiding her penetrating gaze, Frank responded, "We are getting off on the parking level. So are you."

Nancy's eyebrow rose. "Oh really?"

"I'm serious."

Joe clapped his brother on the shoulder just as the doors to the lowest level opened. "Come on, Frank don't be a goody two shoes. Have some adventure."

Frank gawked as Joe grabbed Nancy's hand and they exited the elevator. He stared at their act of rebel for a moment longer until the doors began to close again, and without thinking, he stepped towards them instead of letting it take him to the van.

Joe looked over his shoulder at Frank trailing behind him and Nancy, and grinned. "Decide to join us?"

"Frank shushed him. "Quiet! We're not supposed to be down here. I just know we're going to get caught."

"Well then why did you come?" Nancy asked him.

He blinked once, and responded contritely, "Because I didn't want you to get fired…or hurt."

Joe laughed. "God, Frank. You take after Mom way too much."

He was about to come up with some comment to disagree when Joe too a sharp right down a hallway. Frank stopped to look at the plaque on the wall. It read, PRISONER HOLDING.

Oh, boy.

Frank caught up to Joe again and tugged on his jacket. "Joe! Stop. You're going to get us in trouble."

Joe smiled and paused at a coat closet before responding, "Trouble is my middle name." Then opened the door, released Nancy, and ducked into the closet, shutting the door behind him.

Frank and Nancy waited for a few seconds until Joe came out wearing a lab coat. He paced a few steps, modeling the jacket. "What do you think?" he asked, running a hand through his hair.

Nancy giggled. "I think you look too young to be a doctor."

Joe grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Nancy then went into the closet to get dressed while Frank kept a watchful eye on the corridors. He felt overly worried and agitated.

Nancy came out in a nurse's dress. It was a crisp white with a collar. Her red lipstick stood out startlingly against the brightness of it. In her hand she held a stethoscope and handed it to Joe.

"Here you go," she said.

He wrapped it around his neck. "Nice! I feel like we're going to a Halloween party. Where's the fake blood?" he kidded.

Frank rolled his eyes. They both looked at him, waiting.

"Aren't you going to get dressed, Frank?" Nancy asked.

He crossed his arms. "This is absurd. We're going to—"

"Get caught," they both said, imitating Frank's insecurity.

He smiled. "Precisely. Which is why I am not going to participate."

Just then, they all heard voices coming from down the hall. Joe gave Frank a desperate look while his brother appeared panicked. Nancy's mind was already whirling with a way to escape.

"Get your ass in the closet, Frank," Joe demanded, and shoved his brother in. "Be quiet until we say to come out."

The door clicks closed, and a coat falls on Frank's head. He grumbles to himself, and yanks it off then shrugs it on. Berkley, read the name stitched into the breast pocket.

Looks like I'm going to be Berkley, Frank mused. He pressed his ear against the closet to listen for Joe and Nancy.

"Dr. Smith?" one of the mystery men asked.

"Yes?" Joe answered gruffly, having to deepen his voice to maturity and glancing briefly at his jacket to confirm his alias.

"We have a patient waiting for you in room 202. Are you ready?"

He nodded, and then looked to Nancy. "Are you ready…Betty?" he asked her, coming up with a quick first name.

She nodded. "Yes, Doctor."

Frank head footsteps down the hallway disappear, and knowing he was alone, opened the door and fell on his face from tripping on a hanger. The cool tile seeped into his skin like an ice cube. He pushed himself up and angrily kicked the hanger back into the closet and shut the door.

He was going to kill Joe. No, his father was going to kill him after he gets caught today. Entering a restricted area without consent is one thing, but posing as a phony doctor is crossing the line. He needed to find Joe and Nancy, and fast.

Nancy bumped Joe with her elbow. "Betty? That's the best you could come up with?"

Joe shrugged, his hand in his pockets. "I wouldn't be complaining. It was a spur of the moment decision and it rhymed with ready. I could have picked Beatrice."

She grimaced. "Touché."

They reached the ward with the prisoners. Nancy inconspicuously moved a centimeter closer to Joe. The men led them to bunker 202 and opened the door. On a bench, in a doctor's exam room, sat the boy Frank and Joe had saved the other night.

Joe had an intake of sharp breath, hoping that he wouldn't recognize him. Nancy on the other hand, had no idea what she had gotten herself into.

"This is Jeffry Ross. He was brought in last night. We need you to check his vital signs and his shot records to make sure he is good to go."]

Joe nodded. "Thank you."

They gave a brief curt nod and opened the door. "We'll be waiting on the other side of the door for your protection."

Once they shut the door, Nancy slapped Joe.

"Ow! What the hell was that for?"

Jeffry looked at them both, shocked.

Nancy whispered angrily, "You idiot! Look what you got us into? Why did you agree you were Doctor Smith?"

He gave her a look, and whipped off his stethoscope, not trying to contain his voice as much as her. "You were all for it five seconds ago!"

Suddenly Jeffry cleared his throat. "Um, are you two here to check me up? Because I'm not sure if I want you two to be working on me…"

Nancy glared at him. "Excuse me, but we are trying to have an argument."

He snapped his mouth closed.

Joe looked at Nancy. "It's not his fault you decided to push that elevator button and get us into this mess!"

Nancy pointed a finger at him. "Don't you dare, Joe Hardy."

Jeffry's eye's bulged hearing Joe's last name. He slowly slid off the bench.

Joe glared at her. "Don't what?"

Nancy continued. "Don't you dare tell me this was all my fault. You were the one who pulled me off the elevator!"

Just then Joe's eyes flicked to Jeffry who was making his way to the orange hazardous materials box. "Hey! Stop right there."

Joe sprinted for Jeffry who dropped his hands immediately and rolled into a fetal position. "Please!" he begged. "Please! Don't hurt me again. You can have it! You can have it!" he was sobbing now, and Joe was flabbergasted.

Nancy came over to put a hand on Jeffry. "Joe? I think you'd better start explaining."

Frank was lost in the catacombs of the underground bunker. There were just too many hallways and too many doors. He did find a map, but it was too much to memorize, so he decided to do as much as he could possibly do with what little gift of a photographic memory that he had.

He rounded a corner and came face to face with a door that had a plaque that read FILES. He listened to the other side of the door: nothing. He wiggled the knob, and found that it was locked.

He exhaled a frustrated breath, and then had the idea of feeling inside his borrowed jacket's pockets. In the left he found a ballpoint pen with a metal clip. He grinned slowly.

Frank removed the clip and shoved the pen back into his pocket. He inserted the metal clip into the keyhole and pressed inward then turned the lock clockwise. The door creaked open. Frank checked his back before sliding in. Once inside, he locked the door once again, closed the blinds everywhere that there was a window, and flicked on the lights.

The room illuminated with a dingy, fake lighting that seemed to make the air taste stale. Surrounding Frank was copious amounts of filing cabinets. He exhaled. "This would take a while if I didn't already know what I was looking for."

He spotted a computer in the corner of the room and clicked it on. He searched for Felix Xavier Hardy. Only one file popped up on the screen and Frank printed out the information of where it was located. He took the paper to search cabinets. He ran up and down each isle until he came to the correct one. Frank pulled out the drawer to the filing system and fingered through the files until he come to a tab titled Hardy. He pulled it out and shoved it under his jacket. There was no time to go through it. He had to find Joe and Nancy before it became too late.

Nancy patted Jeffry's shoulder in soothing circular motions and Joe relayed everything to her—the stakeout, their uncle, all leading up to where they were currently standing.

Jeffry stopped sobbing, and was now listening intently, allowing Nancy to calm him. When Joe finished he asked, "So you're not the bad guy?"

Joe shook his head. "No. And obviously I'm not your doctor either." He grinned.

"So you're one of the two guys on the night Hardy tried to kill me. You saved me."

Joe nodded. "Yes. But we're not supposed to be here, so don't relay any of this to the authorities when we're gone, okay?"

Jeffry knitted his eyebrows together. "But I thought you were one of the good guys. You said yourself that you work for the station here."

"I do, but I'm not authorized to be here. Strict orders from the Man."

"Jeffry, why do they want to harm you? And why were you so afraid of us?"

He let out a shaky sigh and chuckled half-heartedly. "I thought Joe was here to kill me. He has the same last name as Felix. I knew he wasn't my doctor as soon as I saw him. He's too young, and too flippant."

Nancy smiled satisfactorily at Joe. He didn't return her self-righteous smile.

Jeffry slid down on the wall and came to a sitting position, his back against it. "As for why they are trying to kill me, my father borrowed money from Felix when I was fifteen. He could never pay him back and in response to that problem, Felix killed my family. I was the only one who escaped, but Felix kept tabs on me ever since—partly because of revenge, and mostly because my father put the money in my name. Last night he finally got close enough to kill me, if it wasn't for you and…?"

"Frank," Joe offered. "He's my brother."

Just then Nancy blinked. "Joe?"

"Yeah?"

"Where is Frank?"

Joe swallowed. "I'm sure he's fine. We had no choice but to follow the guards to this room. We were wearing doctoral attire with someone else's name. If we said no, they were bound to figure us out."

She nodded. "He'll catch up. He's smart enough to find us."

Jeffry stood. "Do you believe my innocence?"

Joe looked at him. "I don't know what to believe. But you need to contact us in any way possible if you can. We're an asset to us if you want to prove your innocence."

He nodded. "Okay."

"But I do need to know one thing. If Felix is threatening your life, why not just give him the cash back?"

"Because it's missing. My father hid it away, and I have no idea where it is."

Nancy asked, "Maybe there's a series of clues hidden somewhere?"

Suddenly Joe touched Nancy's shoulder. He looked paralyzed. "What's wrong?" she asked him.

He pointed to a camera in the wall—pinprick small, but still a camera.

She sucked in air. "Do you think they overheard—"

The two police men that were guarding the door burst in through. "Put your hands up! You're under arrest!"


End file.
